Junk (Overwatch)

Blood on the Gold

Blood gushed up Jamison's damaged throat as he spewed stomach acids and who knows what all over his loot. He felt ill, he felt sick and disgusted by what just happened. Roadhog meant the world to him, and he was just left behind. After a few moments of just his coughs, hacks and other, not so comforting noises echoing through the now silent room, the flaming rebel finally got himself together.

Then, he fell on his knees and stared at the ceiling as he thought about his past, and what he did wrong. The sound of gold falling and clanging deeply and loudly mixed with churning bodily fluids mixing filled the place as the Junker slowly pushed himself up on his broken peg leg, shakily gasping for air. Everything hurt, his body ached and he felt like he was dying on the inside and the outside.

His thigh didn't anticipate the sudden weight being put on one leg, and thus nearly instantly collapsed, feeling as vulnerable as ever. Roadhog was constantly on his mind, his entire body trembling. Mako helped him in so many things, what did he do wrong?

The Junker laid there in the mix of earthly goods and vomit, his entire body shivering as his slicked up hair slowly drooped down, vomit even at the roots of his hair. He despised the smell, but felt too weak to move. He looked miserable, like a tiny rat - he was Junkrat after all.

Mako was walking away slowly with the mine he got from Junkrat when he got employed by the mutt of a man. "Only use it in an emergency, mate! 'Ts a special one." He would giggle and cover his mouth with his filthy little palms the tank adored so much. He was so upbeat and happy all the time, but the Australian promised himself to not get attached to the small Junker - after his shift was up, and he got his money, his contract ended - and he got what he needed.

He got it a long time ago.

Fawkes didn't understand explosives as much as he did today. He would run around, combusting all sorts of things. Trees, piles of rock, rabbits and even people.

He went too far one day, though. He blew up an oil tanker.

"Fuck!" He screamed as he felt pain rushing through his arm, his lower arm flinging off, fire everywhere. He felt ill to the stomach. "R-Roadhog!" He screamed out, his foot jammed under some gunk. "M-ako please! I don't wanna die here!" He cried out, his voice projecting helplessness and weakness, his body trembling in fear. The only thing keeping his arm attached was a few ligaments and bits of skin, blood covering his right side.

"I'm here, pipsqueak." Mako huffed and rushed to him sluggishly, lifting the smaller one roughly, not noticing his foot was jammed. He tore him out of the fiery mess and the smaller Junker screamed

"Me foot!" He cried and hacked, his face turning paler and paler from blood loss.

Thats when Mako got his payment for a lifetime; a partner in crime.

A lover.

But good things can be too much too.